


Getting Better

by Abisian



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abisian/pseuds/Abisian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl and Carol have a difficult conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Better

**Author's Note:**

> Set between the events of seasons three and four. Enjoy.

Daryl watched uneasily as Carol held baby Judith in the crook of her arm, formula-filled bottle held in her free hand.  He was sitting back against the bars of her cell, cleaning dried blood off his small pile of bolts.  With all the Woodbury people in the prison now, peace and quiet were a rare find.  He could always count on Carol to tell when he was in need of quiet, and she never questioned his preference in finding it in her.  
  
Today, however, his mind was busy, flitting from one thing to the next, unable to relax.  He had this uneasy feeling in his gut, a feeling that had been there for ages.  Everything was rocketing through his mind and he was unable to staunch the flow.  Killing Merle.  Leaving the group.  Thinking Carol was dead and then finding her _alive_.  Picking her up in quivering arms, shaking with shock and residual anger, and carrying her feather-light half-starved frame back to the others.  
  
She'd become so much stronger than when they'd first joined up.  Back then she was a simpering housewife, bowing to her abusive husband, barely able to protect her own kid.  Now she was capable, almost skillful, willing to stand up rather than sit in the shadows.  Now he was the weak one.  Now it was he who cried over an abusive family member, he who was losing his grip, almost out of his mind with fear.  Maybe it wasn't fear of dying or fear of walkers, but it was fear all the same.  
  
"You've been quiet lately," Carol observed.  She had Judith against her shoulder, patting her gently on the back.  The near-empty baby bottle was lying on the bed beside her.  She was gazing at him with those piercing gray-blue eyes and he found himself looking away.  
  
"Got a lot on my mind," he mumbled, setting down one bolt and picking up another for inspection.  
  
"Maybe if you talk about it, your mind wouldn't feel so burdened," Carol offered.  
  
At that moment Beth walked up to the cell door.  "I can take Judith now, Carol.  I'm gonna see if she'll settle down for a nap."  Carol passed the baby to Beth and waited until she'd walked back down the hall before moving to sit beside Daryl, leaning heavily against the bars.    
  
"If it's Merle, we can--"  
  
"It's not Merle," Daryl told her firmly.  "Not entirely."  
  
"Then what's wrong?"  
  
Silence stretched between them as Daryl felt along the point of his bolt, testing its sharpness, brow furrowed.  He wasn't any good at this, talking about his feelings.  He didn't even know where to start.  
  
"We thought you were dead," he said suddenly, turning the bolt in his hands, not daring to look at her.  "We made you a grave and we mourned you.   I was pissed off, you know?  You survive months and months of walkers and then get your damn self killed.  And then I found you.  You might have died if I hadn't found you."    
  
Daryl paused again, tapping the point of his bolt on the stone floor.  It was a long moment before he spoke again.  
  
"I knew Ed was hitting you.  We all knew.  I hate myself every day for knowing Shane was the only one who had the balls to hit him back for you.  But I was always like that.  I was like that at home.  Too much of a coward to say anything, do anything.  You were like that too.  But now you're not.  You went through all that shit with Ed and Sophia and Lori and the others, fighting off all them walkers, and now you're not weak like you were.  I'm the weak one now.  Cried over Merle like some damn girl."  He shook his head sadly.    
  
Carol watched him for a long moment, mouth bowed into a frown.  He couldn't put it into words, but she knew what he was feeling.  She knew of his abusive home life, his abusive relationship with Merle; he'd told her as much.  Yet he'd still always wanted to be there with him, be there for him; it's all he ever knew.  Instead he'd been the one to kill him.  Merle might have been a walker before Daryl got to him, but he'd never have been at Woodbury alone if he hadn't wanted to protect his brother.  She supposed in some way Daryl felt guilty about his brother's death.  She could clearly see he was still devastated, despite their rocky past.  After all, Merle had been Daryl's only family.  
  
"I've gone through things, that's true," Carol told him.  "You can't hate yourself for what Ed did to me.  He was beating me long before any of you came along."  Carol smiled sadly. "I wasn't even sad when he died.  Sophia, though … I thought my life was over when Sophia walked out of that barn after all those walkers.  But every week that went by I felt a little better.  It didn't happen overnight.  I'm still mourning for her, even now.  And it still makes me sad to think about her, but every day that she wasn't alive, you were.  You and Carl and Rick and all the others were still alive.  I couldn't do anything to protect my own child, but maybe I could help everyone else.  And all those people who died … Sophia, Dale, Lori, even Ed … Their deaths would have been in vain if something didn't come of them.  What purpose would I be serving if I were still so weak and scared?  But you can't compare us, Daryl.  I've coped by bettering myself.  You're coping by allowing yourself to be sad.  You won't be vulnerable the rest of your life.  Just for a little while.  Merle was your kin, I know.  But we're your family now.  You can't be there for Merle anymore, but you can be there for us."  
  
She tried to smile at him reassuringly as her fingers twined themselves around his, and he found himself nodding slowly at her words.  She was right.  He knew she was.  Merle would always be there at the back of his mind, but he had to take care of the living first.  He gave her hand a comforting squeeze before pushing himself to his feet, taking his bolts with him.  
  
"I gotta go sharpen these," he mumbled.  "Thanks."  
  
Carol smiled knowingly as he strode from her cell.  "Anytime," she called after him, pushing herself off the floor.  She returned to her cot, pulling a small scrap of paper from her pants pocket as she sat down on the squeaky spring mattress.  It was a school photograph of Sophia.  She had pulled it from Ed's wallet before they'd buried him.  It was faded and crumpled, one corner torn off, but Sophia's face still smiled up at her.  Carol's eyes stung with unshed tears, but it wasn't so hard to keep them at bay anymore.    
  
What she'd told Daryl was true.  They might not ever be completely healed of the things they'd gone through, but it did get better in time.


End file.
